


No More Waiting

by VulpusTumultum



Series: OC x OC [9]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Biting, Blindfolds, Edge Play, M/M, NSFW Art, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 03:53:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpusTumultum/pseuds/VulpusTumultum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The blindfold didn't let even the littlest bit of light in, and his lover was silent. All there was was the immediate moment, or what his mind came up with for ways the immediate future could go. He ached for more touches, to where if he hadn't been bound, he'd be reaching, trying to find his lover, who was making him wait for more. </p>
<p>Was he preparing something- was he just watching?</p>
<p>The bed at least told Osiris that he was near, the mattress moving with the shifting weight of another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Waiting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slugette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slugette/gifts).



> **No they are not related by blood, they are just Dalish clanmates.**
> 
> This starts after they've already been at it a while, and was originally just a response to an invitation to 'send anon smut!' but I couldn't just leave it after my first post (the summary here on Ao3), so wrote a second, and then finished the scene off entirely.
> 
> I especially couldn't just leave it as it had been after Slugette [drew this picture of Osiris in response to the first ask I sent:](http://slugette.tumblr.com/post/127780558070/the-blindfold-didnt-let-even-the-littlest-bit-of) (link goes to the original post for reblogging/liking on Tumblr)

Finally, Osiris felt the brush of hands along him as he knelt on the bed, fingers tracing the ropes that bound thighs to calves and boxed his arms. He arched in towards the other warrior behind him, but hands caught him by the shoulders, keeping him straight. 

“What is it you want, lethallin? You whisper ‘more’ but more what?” The voice is a low murmur, husky with desire, and lips and teeth run along the edge of one of Osiris’ pierced ears, and it makes him struggle for words, gasping and panting.

“Fuck me, please…” He manages it, shaky and soft.

Fingers slid over the bruising bite marks where Osiris’ neck and shoulders met, enough to give him a new rushing ache from them, which made his breath catch and cock throb urgently again. But it wasn’t enough, Lyos had kept giving him not  _quite_  enough to release, and urged, even ordered Osiris to hold himself back. 

His quiet lover was learning, getting to where he knew Osiris’ body and desires as well as the blonde knew combat with sword and blade, knew exactly how far and how strong to push, then how much to back away to keep the redhead on the very edge.

“Lyos! Fuck me  _please-”_ It wasn’t really a shout, but for  _him_  it was loud, urgent. “Please, Ma’ara.”

There was just one hand on a shoulder now, thumb sliding over Osiris’ skin and sometimes teasing that bite. When eventually the other hand returned, arching the taller elf backwards slightly so Lyos could better murmur and nuzzle at his ear again, the fingers were still slick, and Osiris made a hopeful sound that became a hot, soft moan as he heard the words whispered.

“I am going to. You’re so beautiful, and I want to give you everything you desire, for all you give and offer me…”

Lyos moves, pulling Osiris backwards, so that instead of kneeling he’s on his back, legs still spread but now knees in the air, knots tugged so bindings are loosened a little on those legs, allowing them to move to a more comfortable angle. Pillows under him prevent  _too_  much pressure on his still bound arms, and mean that his head is thrown back-

And finally he  _is_  taken, hips and ass lifted as Lyos is between his thighs, Osiris is still a little slick and stretched from earlier teasing with a toy and fingers, so his lover’s cock goes in smoothly, first hard thrust penetrating deeply.

It steals away Osiris’ breath at first, but he gasps and recovers it enough to moan Lyos’ name, voice shaky, husky, and pleading. Hands on his rope-wrapped thighs or on his hips, sliding along skin and bindings while he’s fucked, slowly, but thoroughly and powerfully.

Osiris has few words, beyond gasping for more, pleading for another stroke to his sweet spot, and those words are all alone, mostly just single syllables of urgency beyond Lyos’ actual name and the time he begs for  _harder_.

Lyos has a few more words, he always does, though hardly constant, there’s plenty of time where the only sounds are skin on skin, the movement of the bed, and the moans and groans of pleasure. But when he does speak, it’s almost poetic at times, if still also direct and very dirty. Never humiliating, always about how good Osiris is, how good he  _feels_  and how much Lyos loves doing all these things to him,  _for_ him.

And now, Lyos is urging him to come rather than to hold back, and that’s enough to let him, calling out his lover’s name, sweaty and tear streaked, bruised and still tied but feeling the wash of euphoria take him, so intense that he barely notices that Lyos has followed, barely hears the louder reaction of the smaller warrior.

Slowly he comes out of the beautiful haze, aware he’s being kissed, and returning it, ropes loosening, being untied, and his limbs allowed to stretch freely into a sprawl. Osiris gasps softly as Lyos helps work at some muscles that are jumping a little too much from so long being bound, and then the blindfold comes off, so in the dim lantern lights of his room, he can see the other elf.

Another, softer kiss shared, with Osiris able to see the intense look in Lyos’ eyes, and reach to trace the vallaslin on his brow, and a new shudder coming over him, feeling so good, protected, and  _wanted_ somehow also feeling somehow terrifying for a few moments as he realizes that his tired lover has just murmured “ _Ma'arlath,”_ against his skin while wiping them down with a cloth to toss it aside so they’re at least a little less stickily uncomfortable later.

But Osiris is spent, exhausted, and the warmth is stronger than any worry, the two of them tangling together to get some sleep.


End file.
